Another Day Out West
by Michelle
Summary: A girl is kidnapped from the stage, Ezra goes missing. Can the Seven save them?
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: If I owned them, I wouldn't be sitting here and vicariously living out my  
fantasies through these fics.  
Rating: PG-13, for language at points, but I guess R due to the subject matter at others.  
  
Author's Note: If you've read my ATF fics, then you already know who Julian is and the explanation I spend in this fic will just be a rehash for you. However, I did make some changes (a few blatant ones, to be sure) that I think pertain to the subject matter more closely than if I made Old West Julian the same as ATF Julian. Oh, and I know the title makes no sense, but I hope that over the days, I'll come up with a better one and rename it. So without further ado . . .   
  
Another Day Out West  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Prologue  
  
  
The dust from the trail invaded the small confines of the stagecoach as it lumbered across the miles carrying its passengers to their destination in the New Mexican territory. One of the tired passengers, a young woman in her early twenties, absentmindedly smoothed a pleat on her full skirt. Tired from looking out the small window of the coach at the flat terrain, she once again began to covertly study the faces of her two silent fellow travelers, making up stories about their lives to pass the time. As she reached the face of the second man who occupied the faded seat across from her, she had to repress a shudder that threatened her as she noticed the leering gaze that once more glazed across the greasy man's close set eyes.  
The man wore a suit that was several sizes too small for his portly frame. When he smiled at her, she could see that he was missing a couple of teeth. He had joined them at the last stop, forcing the third passenger, a small man with spectacles perched on his nose, over into the far corner of the coach. She had become more and more uncomfortable with the unwanted attention that was being paid to her. The man had looked her over from head to toe as if she were clad only in her chemise. Back home, she had never experienced such attention being thrust her way. She was a young lady who was used to moving among polite society. The further they traveled, the more she began to wonder if it would have been wiser for her to have waited for her brother to send a chaperone to escort her. Repressing a shudder, she forced the last thought out of her mind. She was a grown woman and could take care of herself..  
She mentally reviewed the past few hours and curiously, the one fact that remained in the forefront of her memory was that this awful man had gotten on the stage without any luggage. Maybe he was a highwayman or an outlaw . . .  
'Stop it, Julian!' she silently admonished herself. "You've read one too many romantic novels. Besides, . . .'  
Abruptly, her straying thoughts were interrupted by an eruption of gunfire coming from the far side of the coach. Julian, cautiously pushed open the heavy  
flap of fabric covering the window and peered out.  
Her eyes grew wide as she focused on the three men on horses, handkerchiefs tied around their mouths, and guns blazing, who raced alongside the stage. Suddenly aware of just how vulnerable they all were, Julian dropped the corner of the curtain back into place and pushed herself into the corner of her seat, suddenly afraid. The gunmen rapidly closed the gap between them and the sides of the coach, forcing the driver to a screeching halt.  
As the stage finally stopped, the people inside struggled to maintain their seats. Julian quickly glanced around to see if any of the others were hurt or if they were going to try to put up a fight. Surely one of them was armed. To her growing dismay, she saw that the younger man cowered in his seat, too afraid to even open his eyes. Yet, the portly man was sitting in his seat as if this were a normal occurrence. Just sitting there smiling at her as his right hand fingered his gun that he had removed from within his jacket.  
"You have to do something! You have to help . . ." Julian cried before the smiling man hit her upside her head with the butt of his revolver, rendering the young woman unconscious.  
  
************  
  



	2. One

Chapter 1

"Mr. Dunne, I must insist that you refrain from carrying out the implied purpose of your general deameanor!"exclaimed Ezra Standish. The gentleman gambler stood stock still on the dusty wooden walkway after coming face-to-face with a gun, a .36 caliber Colt Navy 1851 single action pistol to be precise, pointed directly at him. 

The young sheriff of Four Corners, JD Dunne, frowned in consternation, "Huh?" 

Following the path of Ezra's green eyes down to his hand, understanding dawned on the young man. "Oh, I'm real sorry, Ezra!" he said as he quickly holstered the six-shooter. 

"Much better, Mr. Dunne. And might I inquire as to the nature of your well-being on this fine morning?" Ezra asked him as the two men began to walk towards the livery. 

JD was becoming more familiar to the older man's peculiar taste in words. He discovered that he was one of the few in town that had little trouble following Ezra's particular mode of speech. Part of this was due to the fact that he was the one person who spent the most time with Ezra. The other six men could never seem to warm to the southerner. For some reason, JD saw something in the ex-conman that the others couldn't. The more time he spent with the gambler, the easier it was for him to understand the twenty-five cent words that continually popped out of Ezra's mouth. At first, JD was a bit offended by the "dumbing down" of his speech that Ezra had tended to use around the undereducated youth. But, as the months passed, Ezra found the young man to have a quick mind and set himself to the personal task of furthering his education in the only way he knew how. And besides, at least Ezra talked on subjects non-relating to women, as some unmentioned friend of his did nearly continually. 

"Ez, I'm real sorry about that. I was just trying to finish getting the thing loaded and then you . ." 

"I am well aware of that fact, Mr. Dunne," Ezra said with a smile. "I see no need for your continued apologies." 

The two men continued making their way towards the livery where they were to meet up with the remaining members of their team. JD was excitedly rambling about their upcoming ride, not noticing Ezra's lack of participation in the conversation. 'Hopefully,' thought Ezra, 'Mr. Larabee will take into account the fact that Mr. Dunne was as late as I in arriving.' The thought of having to listen to Chris's tiresome comments about his disapproval of his sleeping habits began to wear on a man. And perhaps, he could dispense with the asinine comments ("Such an ungodly hour to be awake!") that he was given to dispensing whenever an occasion such as this occured. 

Vin's familiar drawl greeted the two as they arrived, "Mornin' JD, Ez." 

Ezra simply smiled at his compatriots, flashing a peek of his gold tooth in the early morning sun. There was nothing that any of these men could do that would affect him in any manner. In an effort to forestall any discussion on the timeliness of his arrival he asked, "Well, gentlemen, shall we be off?" The red clad man settled himself in his fine tooled leather saddle, spurring his horse into a slow walk "The latest ruffian, a cattle rustler, if I am to understand Mr. Larabee correctly, awaits us." 

Larabee, clad in his traditional black garments, nodded briefly to the two late comers before turning his own horse towards the east end of town. The others followed suit, quickly outpacing and overtaking Ezra. The six men paired off in their usual groups ahead of the gambler. Vin and Chris were at the head of the pack with Josiah and Nathan, already absorbed in another of their deep discussions came second, and followed closely by a laughing Buck and JD. Ezra, at the rear of the group, found himself alone once again. 'Ever the outcast.,' he thought wryly. 'Even here among the outcasts themselves.' He sighed resignedly, nudging Chaucer into a canter. 

****

As the morning sun rose to its usual place in the sky, the heat and dust began to settle over the riders. Ezra wiped his face with one of his many handkerchiefs, grimacing at the dirt that was left on the fine material. It was bad enough that he had to be up at the the crack of dawn, but the fact that he had to be chasing down some nefarious villain made it all the worse. 'I can just see Mother now,' he thought with a grin. She would be aghast at the sight of her son, Ezra P. Standish traipsing out into the desert in search of some cattle thief. 

A few hours into the excursion, he found himself absently shuffling the worn deck of cards in his left hand, directing his horse from time to time with his right. Without warning, he felt a splash drop down on his hand. He threw an irritated glance upwards and saw the signs of an impending rainstorm. If it weren't so cliche, he would have laughed. But as it was, Ezra quietly replaced the cards in his vest pocket and tugged his jacket lapels closer together as he continued on behind his six associates. 

Hunching further over his saddlehorn in an effort to evade some of the moisture that had begun to shower upon the group, Ezra's thoughts returned to the six men he found himself riding with. Despite the many times he had stood shoulder to shoulder with them, fighting against great odds, they didn't completely trust him. He knew that Chris really believed that he was only there for the "easy money" their positions provided. 

"Yeah, easy money," Ezra grinned to himself at that thought. Easy, if you didn't count all the times that he'd been nearly killed and the growing number of new scars that now graced his once blemish-free body. 

Lost in his stray thoughts, Ezra did not notice how far behind he had been lagging as the early morning sun burned closer to midday. Because of this, he was the first to notice when the shots began to ring out across the valley. 

"Aww, hell!" Ezra mumbled as he felt a bullet graze his right shoulder. He leapt off Chaucer and slapped the stead in an effort to force him to find cover. He gave the other six one final glance, before he ducked behind an outcropping of rock and pulled his guns. From his vantage point, Ezra could see nothing but he could hear the shouts of his friends and the gunshots that were raining down upon them. Every time he attempted to take a shot, bullets would ricochet off the boulder he was hiding behind, forcing him to retreat. He was unable to do anything useful to assist his friends. He quickly reviewed the situation and found that either he could stay where he was and hope that his friends were able to subdue the attackers or he could run for it. Not liking his limited options, he settled on remaining where he was for the time being. If he tried to get closer to his friends without any cover, it would be suicide. Ezra was, above all things, a man who only bet on a sure thing. Besides he wasn't stupid. 

As he once more made an attempt to gauge the battle situation, he heard the distinct click behind him. A sound that sounded suspiciously like that of a gun being cocked. The harsh prodding of cool metal against the nape of his sweaty neck confirmed his suspicion. 

"Drop 'em, or I blow your head off," a raspy voice demanded from behind him. Without hesitation, Ezra complied, laying his Remington on the ground. 

"Now, turn around." 

Ezra complied with the second order, hoping that when he did he might be able to signal one of the others. He found himself standing in front of someone he had never laid eyes on before. And, because the guns were still assaulting the others, no one realized that he was in trouble. 

"Say goodnight, Mr. Standish." the gunman spat as he brought his gun down on the smaller man's forehead. 

Just before he blacked out, Ezra had one thought run through his mind. "He knows my name!" 


	3. Two

# Chapter 2

Larabee was furious. They had been ambushed! Most likely by the same rustlers they were suppose to be out looking for. The heavy fire had forced them to take immediate cover, resulting in a decided lack of assets. They had suffered because of it, barely getting off a round apiece. JD now sported a brand new bullet hole in his arm and Josiah had been nicked by slivers of rock that he was hiding behind. Chris could see that Buck was almost beyond control. Between getting shots off at their attackers, he was trying to keep an eye on the kid. Nathan was holding his own, keeping his large body behind some desert bush. The only positive thing they had going for themselves right now was the fact that Vin had been out ahead of them scouting when the fight started. From his position further up in the hills, Vin had managed to wing one of the men responsible. A small retribution to be sure. 

Oddly, as quickly as it began, the gunfire stopped. All at once a deathly calm descended over the valley. After several tense minutes, they heard the sounds of hoofbeats approaching their location. Larabee cautiously left his cover and saw the tracker returning from his spot in the hills. Chris listened as Vin returned with news of his hit, sweeping the landscape for any sign of more danger. As he took stock of the situation, he realized that he had not seen Ezra since well before the gunfight. Angrily, he thrust his fingers through his wind tossed hair. 

After assuring one another that they were fine, save for a few nicks and minor wounds, they set out searching for the wayward gambler, Nathan and JD making their way back towards the town. At first, Chris and the others assumed the worst. If Ezra was not there, he must be shot and unable to get himself to them. They searched the immediate area, looking for some sort of sign. Blood, a body, anything. Their search proved fruitless. There was no sign that the former conman had even been there. 

And after a few hours, Chris had been forced to accept the only possible explanation. 

Ezra had run out on them once again. They'd all trusted Ezra. Expected him to be there when things went wrong. And then, when they'd needed him the most, Ezra had took off! Larabee was disgusted. 

The six exhausted men slowly headed their mounts back towards Four Corners. 

***

"Chris?" Vin called out to the gunslinger as he sat down in the seat next to his friend. Vin's voice penetrated his liquor-clouded thoughts, but he refused to acknowledge the sharpshooter's unwanted presence. The tracker held out the tan colored slip of paper in his hand and tried again. "Chris?" He asked again, "This just come for ya. Telegraph office said it's urgent." 

This caught the brooding man's attention. He tore the paper from Vin's grasp thinking that maybe it was word from Ezra. The whiskey did not help his brain to function clearly, making him struggle to sense of the words before him. Squinting, he read: 

Chris Larabee. STOP. On way now. STOP. No need for chaperone. STOP. Arrive one week. STOP. Julian. STOP. 

"Aww, shit!" Chris exclaimed. Suddenly he wished he had not already finished the whiskey. 'What else can go wrong?' 

***

Nathan sat alone in the jail, disgruntled that he had to be stuck with night watch for the second night in a row. "Dammit. This was Standish's turn but he done run out before he could get to it." the healer grumbled to the empty room. 

It was no secret that of all the men in their ragtag group, Ezra was not the one that he was closest to. 'Hell, he probably conned us all. He probably never changed,' Nathan thought as he aimlessly shuffled through the tall stack of wanted posters that were sitting on the small desk. It just didn't make sense to him. After all the time he'd spent with the man, Nathan had come to believe that the Southerner was changing. He thought that the gambler was no longer judging folks based on their look alone. The way Ezra helped that Chinese girl had improved Nathan's opinion of him greatly. Hell, Nathan almost believed Ezra wouldn't never run out on them again. Frustrated, he thrust wanted posters into the small desk drawer and shoved himself back away from the rickety desk. 

"Guess I hoped too much," Nathan said to the air, settling himself more comfortably in the wooden chair as he prepared to spend yet another long night doing a chore he liked the least. 

[Continue][1]

   [1]: chapthree.html



	4. Three

# Chapter 3

Julian sat shivering in the musty, dark cellar. When the outlaws had first thrust her and the small man into their current prison, she instinctively went for the corner, the only dry spot in the place. Unfortunately, she found that she was not alone there. The rats had found the dry spot also. She had settled her bruised body, tucking her thick skirts around her in an attempt to keep herself warm. The smell that permeated every inch of the suffocating darkness was unbearable. Choking against her dirty sleeve, she began to relive the past horrendous hours. 

The other man in the coach had died two days ago, only hours after they'd been thrown in their makeshift prison. She could still feel the older man's head on her lap, his limp pasty hand clutched desperately to hers as his life slipped away. Julian, had to sit helplessly by as the man bled to death from a gunshot wound to the stomach. All her expensive education back east could do nothing to save the man. She sat idly, telling him it would all "Be okay", but it wasn't. He was dead, and before long, she might be too. To her deepest chagrin, Julian couldn't even remember his name. And now, Julian found herself completely alone in this dark prison. 

She pulled herself into an even tighter ball by the far wall, her light-starved eyes glued to the small slit of gold that was the door. After what could have been mere moments or days, the door was suddenly thrown open. The blackness became blinding, and she flung a protective arm across her undilated eyes. Later, she would berate herself for not taking advantage of that situation and bolting for the door. But, things are always easier in retrospect. 

Voices, harsh and unsympathetic, barked out garbled commands but in her half-conscious state, Julian couldn't understand what was going on. As she struggled to stand up, she stumbled when she heard the sound of a muffled thud, followed shortly by that of a groan followed quickly by the sound of the iron door slamming. The light, as suddenly as it came, was ripped from her world. 

Now it was dark again, but perhaps she was no longer alone. 

***

In the town's only saloon, the barkeeper set a fresh whiskey bottle and glass before Chris Larabee. Larabee had not left his spot at the back table that was surrounded by deep shadows since he received the first missive from his sister. He violently sloshed whiskey into the glass and slammed it down his parched throat. There was nothing that he could do to calm his stampeding thoughts. First the group was set up and ambushed by some bunch of no good outlaws. Then the cattle rustlers mysteriously stop raiding the morning after the gun battle, only to have one of them show up the next day with a sling on his right arm. Add to that he had to worry about the fact that his baby sister was somewhere out there. Possibly in the hands of the same monsters who attacked them. . . 

A young boy who worked part-time at the telegraph office hesitantly crept up to the table and stood in front of him, breaking into Chris's thoughts. 

"Mr. Larabee?" the boy asked in a whisper, even though he knew very well who Chris was. 

Focussing on the kid, Chris answered with a brief nod. 

"This came for you." And without so much as a good-bye, the boy threw the letter on the scarred tabletop and ran out the bat doors. Chris stared at the envelope for a few minutes before picking it up and turning it over in his hands. He saw that it was addressed to "The Seven" in a nearly indistinguishable penmanship. 'Or "The Six",' Chris mentally corrected, 'depending on what day of the week it is.' He ran a long finger under the wax seal, popping the envelope open and withdrew the folded paper. The words on the paper raced together, startling the gunslinger with their meaning. The message scared the life out of him, forcing him out of his self-imposed exile. He had to get the others together and let them know what happened! 

***

Ezra awoke in a red haze of pain. Shifting restlessly in an effort to gain a more comfortable position, he bit back a cry of pain trying to force its way out. He struggled to ascertain where he was but the pain and lack of light prevented that discovery. Forcing himself to lie still and take inventory of his situation, he found that the pain was radiating from two main spots. His head and his ribs. He felt like he'd been run over by a train. He moved to his left side, immediately regretting this action. No, make that two trains. Simultaneously. 

He squinted in the darkness, trying to make out any shape that he might use to gain a clue as to where he was. The last thing that Ezra could remember was riding out with the others very early after some rustlers. Then there was some sort of gun battle and one of the outlaws had come up behind him. Clasping his eyes shut in an effort to ward off a fresh wave of pain, he found that he was unable to make sense of the situation. Why was he here? Whoever ambushed them had no reason to take Ezra anywhere. If anything, he should have been shot and left to bleed to death. 

Ezra's cloudy eyes flew open as he heard the slight sound of scuffling over in the far end of the room. 

"Who's there?" Ezra winced at the sound; the rasp barely sounding like his normally strong vibrant voice. 

Slowly, a slight figure entered his limited view. Squinting, he could barely make out that it was a woman. Her long tangled hair had fallen down around her body, gently swaying as she slowly made her way to his side. He thought that he heard a small moan of pain escape her as she knelt down beside him. 

"Hello." she said quietly. "Who are you?" 

"Ezra Standish, at your service. Limited service, I might say considering the accommodations that we find ourselves enjoying," Ezra replied, attempting to gain some foothold of normalcy in such a strange setting. "I believe that I have previously inquired as to your identity as well?" 

The woman rested a gentle hand on his shoulder before answering in her feminine gravel, "My name is Julian. Julian Larabee." Ezra's mind reeled at the sound of the familiar surname. Didn't he vaguely remember Chris saying something about having to hire a chaperone to escort some young girl out here? He wasn't sure due to the pain that clouded his memory. Before surrendering to the oblivion that beckoned to him, another thought entered his mind. 

"How long have I been here?" 

"Two days." she answered. "You're hurt. You need to rest." Ezra locked gazes with the young woman , the white orbs his last memory before he passed back out. 

***

[Continue][1]

   [1]: chapfour.html



	5. Four

# Chapter 4

"We got your man and the girl from the stage. Five hundred dollars at Archer's Pass. Dawn Thursday or they both die." Those handful of words dangled hauntingly in the air after Chris read them aloud for the second time. Josiah turned his attention back from the note to the conversation swirling around him. 

"I knew it!" JD exclaimed. "I knew that he would never run out on us!" 

"What are we goin' to do?" Buck asked, leaning back against the wall, trying to direct Chris' attention to the problem at hand. "Where do we start lookin'?" The others looked at the tracker with new hope. 

"Seein' as how it's been four days, an' I don't have a real good idea where he was when they took him, I ain't sure. Maybe we can try to retrace our path and hope that there's somethin' "we missed," Vin softly stated, staring at Chris. 

The others followed his gaze, shifting their attention to their leader. "Guess that means we pay 'em," Larabee growled as he tossed back the remainder of his drink. 

***

In one final attempt, Chris and Vin rode out late that night, desperate to find the stagecoach. The two men rode along the trail in their typical silence. The serenity of the night was marred by the tension that was arising from the dire situation they found themselves thrust in. Larabee chewed on the end of his cheroot going over the events of the past few days yet again. He felt that if they could find the stage and bring his sister home safe, then he would be able to focus his complete attention on when they went to ransom Ezra and the girl the next morning. 

They came across the overturned coach at day-break. Contents were strewn everywhere. The body of a man lay sprawled about a hundred yards from the coach. Dried blood caked around a head wound. Tanner moved silently among the wreckage, poking a hand here and there looking for clues. Following his friend's progress, Larabee's gaze came to rest on a familiar looking trunk that was tilted over onto its side. Throwing curse words into the wind, Chris ran over to it, and placed a gloved hand on its exterior. He had recognized it immediately as the trunk that his father had made for his mother for as her birthday gift so many years ago. It was the same trunk into which he had packed his baby sister's belongings before sending her to live at their aunt's house after the death of their parents. 

Chris gasped for breath as he fell to his knees in front of the broken trunk, never losing his physical connection with it. Until just minutes ago, he had convinced himself that Julian hadn't been the girl mentioned in the ransom note. Now, even that small hope was wrenched from him as he looked at the trunk. This same trunk gave Chris all the proof that he needed to know that Julian was indeed the unnamed girl that was being held with Ezra. 

Vin, watching his friend closely as he stood off just to the side in an effort to give Chris his privacy, leaned forward and placed a hand on the tense shoulder. 

Chris climbed to his feet and faced his friend. "Let's get someone out here to clean this up." With that said, Larabee shoved his hat back over his blonde hair and jumped back into his saddle. The return trip to town was made in silence, with Vin keeping a worried vigil over his troubled friend. 

[Continue][1]

   [1]: chapfive.html



	6. Five

Chapter Five

Ezra was roughly woken to a swift kick on his already sore ribs. Instinctively, he reached for his gun as he cried out in pain. The realization that he could not find his weapon forced him to acknowledge that it had not been a nightmare. The harsh reality of his situation flooded over him as he gasped for breath. 

His muddled thoughts raced over the past torturous hours making him relive his capture, the cell, the beatings. Again, the rough boot connected with his battered body, this time his face taking the brunt of the assault. He tried to roll over, evading the tormentor but found that instead he was grabbed by the arms and drug off the ground. He tried to focus on the voices that were all around him but could not make out any intelligible word. He couldn't figure out why they were exacting this punishment against him. He could not think of anything that he had done to deserve this treatment. Perhaps, if the pain had not clouded his mind, Ezra would have realized what was about to happen, not to him, but the girl in the cell. 

Those pained screams would haunt him for the rest of his life. 

****

The next morning found the remaining six men sitting tall in their saddles at Archer's Pass, impatiently awaiting the arrival of the kidnappers. Vin kept vigil with his glass, scanning the horizon in even sweeps. Finally, he spotted movement across the ridge. Minutes later, they watched as three men made their way into view. They came to a stop a good distance out in front of the six men, their horses nervously prancing beneath them. One of the men had a sling supporting his right arm. Vin shot a slight smile at him, letting him know that he was the one responsible for his injury. 

"You got the money?" the tall man on the black horse called out. 

"Where are the hostages?" Chris demanded. 

"The third rider glanced over at his boss before motioning behind him. Slowly, a horse and rider, previously unseen, moved out from behind the boulder. JD sucked in a quick breath as he saw Ezra, wrists tied in front of him to a heavy rope, stumbling along behind the rider. 

"Now, the money." The tall man's voice was muffled by the scarlet hankerchief tied across his mouth. 

"Where's the other one?" Chris retorted. Drawing on the strength that if these men didn't know their other hostage was his younger sister, he wasn't going to be the one to tell them. It could only make a bad situation worse, especially for her. 

"Give you a location after you give us the money." 

"Ezra first." 

The man once more motioned behind him and the fourth rider cut the ropes that bound the conman. Trying to keep on his feet and moving forward, Ezra picked his way towards them as Chris tossed the money sack at the black horse's rider. 

And then, all hell broke loose. One moment, Ezra was coming down the ridge towards them and then there was nothing but gunfire. In a storm of dust, the four men disappeared, leaving Ezra in a crumpled heap at the base of the ridge. 

The others fought to keep their horses steady as they tried to return fire. When the dust settled, they found that they were alone. The outlaws were gone, leaving a faint trail. 

Josiah was the first of the six to take notice of the broken body of his comrade. He urged his horse towards the spot where Ezra laid unmoving and jumped from his saddle before the horse stopped completely. The large man gently lifted the battered man's head into his lap and called out, "Ezra!" 

Nathan had closely followed the preacher to Ezra and grabbed his saddlebags before kneeling down to see how badly his friend was hurt. "Ez! Come on now, answer me!" the healer called as he frantically searched for a pulse. 

"Nathan?" Chris asked hesitantly, "How is he?" 

"Alive," the healer replied. "Got to bandage him up and get him back to town before I can tell you anything more." 

[Continue][1]

   [1]: chapsix.html



	7. Six

Chapter Six

Josiah sat on the old chair next to Ezra's cot listening to the raspy wheezes that emanated from Ezra's bruised body. It was the only sign of life he'd given since he'd been brought back to the clinic. It was the sound that Josiah concentrated on, willing to hear every labored breath so that he could assure himself that Ezra was still there with them. If anyone walked in the door right now, they would immediately assume that the gambler was dead for he was lying there so still. If it weren't for the slight rise and fall of his chest, at times Josiah would think that he really was dead. 

Josiah kept a constant vigil over his friend only leaving his side when one of the others came to sit with the gambler. Even Mary Travis and Nettie Wells had taken a turn sitting with the conman. 

Josiah rang out the cloth he'd placed across Ezra's fevered brow, resoaking it with clean, cool water. He wondered how much of his care was for the man and how much was for repentance. All of the men felt guilty for what they had thought about the unconcious man. Believing that he had run out on them without a second thought. Now, all they wanted was to have the opportunity to make amends to their friend. Not a single one of them admitted their guilt aloud but they all knew how the others felt. 

In an effort to keep himself aware, Josiah looked at Ezra's battered body. 'Boy, he really looks like hell.' His head wound had been stitched and wrapped with a thick white bandage. Nathan had determined that a couple of his ribs were indeed cracked, thus explaining the presence of the tight bandage stretching completely around his torso. There were a couple of badly fractured bones in Ezra's right hand. Josiah smiled slightly at this injury, surmising how the southerner must have come about that injury. He hoped that whoever was on the receiving end of it, still felt the pain that accompanied that punch! His somber eyes came to rest on the smaller bandage that covered the wound that could have killed instantly but for the gambler's luck. During the bungled exchange, a bullet that drove Ezra down to the ground landed close to his right lung. If not for the battle-wrought skill Nathan won over the past years, Ezra would not be alive to wage this battle today. 

Josiah remembered the point that Nathan had brought up when he filled the others in on Ezra's condition. The one thing that stood out and puzzled Nathan, was the fact that most of the wounds appeared to be fresh. Ezra had been held for four days; shouldn't his injuries be older than what they appeared to be? 

***

Vin and Chris had been out looking every morning the past two days since Ezra's return for a clue, anything, that would lead them to Julian's location. The faint trail that had been left by the kidnappers turned out to be a dead end. One of them must have ridden back and planted a false one, leading them on a wild goose chase. Now, all that they could do was wait and hope that the kidnappers would contact them again. 

Buck and Chris had stayed up late that first night, going over all the facts that they knew, hoping to piece together this puzzle. Buck had privately come to the conclusion that if the kidnappers didn't know Julian was Chris's sister, then there was little chance that they would contact them again. But, if they knew who she was then it didn't bode well for the girl's safety, such as it was. He knew that his old friend had thought of these possibilities as well but was unwilling to voice them. None of this, however, kept Larabee from trekking back out each morning checking leads or possible hide-outs. Anything and everything that might bring him one step closer to finding his little sister. 

***

Josiah slouched even further in the small chair, searching for a comfortable position. It hurt him to see someone so young to be in a position where he had to fight for his life. Particularly someone who had as much potential as Ezra had. During these past two years, Ezra had changed so much from the man he was that day in the saloon so long ago. Only now after much soul searching did Josiah completely realize just how different he really was. The man that Ezra had become was noble and brave. These qualities had shone through his every action. But while Ezra continued to keep himself emotionally separated from the others, he succeeded in blinding the others to his real self. It was easier to keep them sidetracked by a wise-crack or a ten-dollar word than to have to deal with the feelings upfront. 

Josiah looked over at the young man, realizing that he was witnessing the struggle for life by an amazing individual. This was a man who had the guts, the sheer tenacity to stay and fight for what he believed in, what was right, when everyone seemed to be fighting against him. Even when they believed him to be a coward and a deserter, he had clung to his promise he had made that fateful day at the Seminole village. 

"I am so sorry, Brother," Josiah whispered to the comatose man. Keeping his voice low so that he did not wake Nathan who was asleep in the other bed on the far side of the room, he continued, "I never should have thought . . ." Josiah stopped, hastily wiping away the tear that had worked its way down his rough cheek. 

In his grief, he pushed the chair back away from the bed, feeling embarrassed suddenly. It took him a couple of seconds to register the fact that he had heard Ezra cough. The preacher flew back to the bed and quickly laid one of his big hands on Ezra's shoulder as another round of coughs racked his body. 

"Nathan!" Josiah roared, causing the sleeping healer to abruptly jerk from his nap and rush over to the two men. Josiah watched intently as Nathan touched the base of Ezra's throat, checking his pulse. The fear that had been running through Josiah abated as he watched Nathan visibly relax for the first time in days. 

"Fever's broke,." the healer said with relief. "He's goin' to be okay. The damn fool is goin' to make it, Josiah!" 

Josiah smiled and dropped back down in the abandoned chair to catch up on some much needed rest of his own. Come morning, he'd tell the others. 

[Continue][1]

   [1]: chapseven.html



	8. Seven

Chapter Seven

Confusion washed over Ezra as he clawed his way to consciousness. 'Where was he?' 'Nathan's? How . . .?' Ezra bit back a moan as he struggled to sit up. The pain reminded him of the events of the past few days. The last thing he could remember was walking towards his friends and then being shot by one of his captors. Foremost in his mind was the fate of the young woman imprisoned with him. Where was she? 

Anxiously, Ezra's gaze swept the room seeking the sight of a familiar face. Finally, he gasped in relief as he saw Josiah Sanchez fast asleep in the small chair next to his bed. Ezra tried to speak, but his dry throat would not cooperate. He needed to ask him if they knew about the girl. Despairingly, Ezra tried once again to gain Josiah's attention. He tried to force a yell out of his body but the effort resulted only in a soft whisper that had no effect on the slumbering giant. 

Ezra, tired out by this small exertion on his broken body, passed out into a deep slumber. 

***

Chris looked at the still body of his associate with guilt. Ezra's face and body were covered with cuts and bruises. The broken hand and cracked ribs testimony of the brutal handling he had survived during his captivity. This was not to mention that he'd been beaten, shot and starved. The list went on and on, always ending at the same spot. It was Chris's fault that Ezra ended up this was because it was Chris who thought that the gambler had run out on them. While Ezra was bleeding and broken in the middle of the desert, Chris was cursing his very existence. The gunslinger could not for the life of him figure out a way he could make this horrible transgression up to his hurt friend. 

Larabee had been in and out of the room at various times since they had brought the man back home. His visits were more frequent now ever since Josiah had informed him that Ezra's fever had broken. He was driven by the need to keep an eye out for his fallen man, need to apologize for doubting his loyalty, need to make it up him for not searching for him when he was missing. Most importantly, he needed Ezra to wake up so that he could tell him what he remembered that could help Chris find his sister. He clung to the small hope that when Ezra awoke, he would be able to tell them where he was imprisoned; where Julian was imprisoned. 

Chris flopped down in the old rocker causing the ancient timbers to creak under his weight. He wearily put his head between his hands in an effort to relieve some of the stress that was building up behind his eyes. "Dammit, Ezra." he muttered. 

"It seems I have done something once again that I am unaware of." came the weak reply. 

Chris looked up. "Ezra! You're awake!" Larabee found himself holding back from apologizing for the last comment. He was embarrassed that Ezra chose to wake up at that particular moment, but he still happy to see the man awake. 

"How do you feel Ezra?" 

"Like I've been shot." Ezra smiled ruefully. 

Larabee knew that he should go get Nathan first but could not stop himself from asking the questions that had been haunting him every waking moment during these past days. Hesitating slightly before continuing, Chris plunged ahead. "What do you remember from your time there? Do you have any idea where you were? Was there anyone else with you?" 

Even though he was a bit overwhelmed with the barrage of questions, Ezra took a moment to collected his thoughts and his strength before answering them. "I can't say much for the first, save that it was dark and small in the room where we were held." Chris mind eagerly picked up the reference to 'we', but did not press the man. He knew, based on past experience, Ezra would get all the details out as soon as he could. 

"As to the second question, I believe we were in an old jail. Perhaps the ghost town located about ten miles from here," Ezra rasped. After a brief coughing spell, he waved his hand towards the glass on the table to indicate that he needed water. Ezra sighed as the coolness of the water flowed over his parched throat. Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity to Chris, he added softly, "And, yes. Your sister was with me." With that statement, Ezra closed his eyes and drifted back off. 

Dammit! Chris had clung desperately to the slight hope that it wasn't Julian that had been snatched from the stage. Up until this moment, he was able to calmly go about and continue the search for his missing sibling. But, with Ezra's halting statement, his worst fears were confirmed. There was no way Ezra could have known Chris even had a sister unless he met her. 

That was a part of Chris' past that no one, save Buck, knew about. "Thanks, Ez. Get some sleep now, we need you healthy." Chris stood and left the small room and headed straight for the saloon, where he knew that Vin and the others were waiting. 

[Continue][1]

   [1]: chapeight.html



	9. Eight

Chapter Eight

Scarcely two hours later, six determined men rode out of town with a single purpose in mind. 

Chris Larabee led the group, forcing himself to keep an tight rein on his need to race ahead to save his little sister. He knew that when the time came, he would need all the back-up these men would provide. 

One of the many things out of the ordinary on this ride was the fact that Buck had chosen to ride at Chris' left, a position Vin normally occupied. With thoughts much akin to Larabee's running through his head, he remembered Julian as a young girl back in Illinois. She had been the child everyone referred to as "energetic". Julian was into everything; running, riding, even learning to shoot with her brother and his best friend. Chris and Julian's parents had taken her behavior in stride, proud of the way their eldest child watched out for the 'baby' of the family. The idyllic home life was one that he had pretended he was a part of, one he could escape to when his real home, a brothel, was 'occupied' for the night. A home that never failed to welcome him into it, with people that didn't care if Buck was the son of a prostitute. That was, until the day Mr. and Mrs. Larabee were killed. 

Buck remembered that day well. The trio had been out riding that day with Julian sitting in front of Chris holding the reins. By the time they had returned in the late afternoon, they found their parents were gone. Chris had thought they had gone into town for supplies. The next morning, however, brought news of the fatal carriage accident. Julian, barely seven at the time, was sent east to live with a distant relative neither Julian nor Chris had ever met. The courts deciding that her brother wasn't an "appropriate role model for a young lady". Twenty-one year old Chris tried to fight it, but to no avail. Heartbroken, he was forced to send her back East, away from all she knew and loved. Within a year, Julian was living in some boarding school and Chris had moved west with his new wife. 

The day that he went with Chris to put her on the train East was the last day Buck had seen Julian. He had almost forgotten about the girl after so many years. Chris never brought her up in conversation and Buck, being who he was, never talked about her either. 'Must be around thirteen years now.' he thought. And then, about two weeks ago, Chris told him about a letter he had just gotten telling him that Julian was coming out west to see her brother. Now, just days later, that same girl he had shown how to load a rifle and went skinny dipping with, was in the hands of those outlaws. 

***

After laying days in a comatose state, Ezra found himself unable to rest. The pain that had invaded his body during waking hours now invaded his dreams as well. Whenever his eyelids drooped close, all he could see was the body of the dead man wearing glasses and the young girl that kept him alive for those few days after he'd been dumped in the cell. 

No, he corrected himself, she was no young girl. Even in his semi-conscious state Ezra had noticed her various charms. He was a man, after all. And she was a beautiful, fully grown woman who tended him with true compassion. During those fevered hours, she cradled his aching head in her lap, mopping his forehead with the little cool water she'd been given, trying to comfort him to the best of her ability. 

On the third day of his captivity, Ezra had finally been well enough to talk to the girl. But, instead of learning what he could about her, he was forced to witness the terrible things that their captors committed against the defenseless girl. The southerner was beside himself at his inability to do anything to save her from the hell she was now enduring. Remembering those horrid moments brought a cold resolve to his heart. For perhaps the first time since he met Chris Larabee, he truly understood the vengeance that Chris so desperately sought. 

[Continue][1]

   [1]: chapnine.html



	10. Nine

Chapter Nine

As the men made their way across the few miles to where Larabee believed Ezra had been held, they were all painfully aware of the silence left empty by the absence of Ezra's usual nervous banter. Vin had moved out slightly ahead to get the lay of the land knowing that the others would quietly follow him. Finally, in the distance the light from a low burning campfire shone like a beacon. The six men grimly strode directly into the camp with practiced ease. There, they found three men deeply asleep in the early morning air, snoring loudly in the pre-dawn quiet. Not for long though. All of a sudden chaos reigned over the campsite. 

"Where is she?" Chris demanded, hauling the closest man to him off his bedroll and into the air. The man, after a moment of disorientation, just smirked at Chris, refusing to answer the question. 

Chris's steely gaze flickered over to meet Vin's. "Kill him. We got the other two." 

The terrified man jumped when he heard the cocking of Vin's mare's leg, feeling the cold steel of its barrel resting behind his ear. In that moment, after seeing his life race by, he decided that loyalty was one thing, living was another. Taking giant gulps of air into his quaking body, he told Larabee everything he wanted to know. 

***

"Julian!" 

The exhausted girl was startled back to reality at what she thought was the sound of her brother's voice calling out to her. 'No,' she admonished herself. 'It is just my mind playing tricks on me again.' She had laid in the dark cell for days praying that Chris would find her but as time went by and no rescue came about, she began to lose hope. After Ezra had been taken away, she'd received no food or water. Nothing. Except their unwanted attentions on her bruised and torn body. Shuddering in disgust at the memories, Julian began to retreat back to her semi-conscious state as the door to her cell flew open, flooding her hell with precious white-gold light. 

"Julian?" 

Yes, she heard the cry again, only closer now. And now, an angel looking ever so much like her brother appeared before her. Well, it appeared that even God had a sense of humor, she thought . Chris, an angel! 

Her brother, correct that, the "angel", carefully picked up her emaciated, bloody from from the dirt floor and brought her out into the larger room where the light was much brighter. Because she had been deprived of any light during the duration of her captivity, her eyes could not take the assault on them. With a faint cry escaping from her cracked lips, she buried her face in the angels black cotton shirt. 

***


	11. Ten

Chapter Ten

"Her biggest problem is dehydration and malnutrition." Nathan told Chris quietly. The gunslinger was still sitting in the same place he had been since his sister was brought into the clinic. Nathan glanced over at the cot that held the sleeping girl adding, "Once she's eating right again, it'll just be a matter of time." With that said, Nathan patted his friend's tense shoulder before moving on to his other patient's bed. When he looked down, he found Ezra's green eyes staring back at him. 

"What is the prognosis of our fair companion?" he whispered through his cracked lips. 

Being in his chosen profession, Ezra had never been one given to enjoy the great outdoors. Because of this, his skin was not the type that was naturally conducive to being tanned by the sun. His illness coupled with the glare of the early morning sun seemed to compound that fact. His normally fair skin was nearly transparent. 

When Nathan first met the southerner, it had not been love at first sight for either man. But, at the time, Nathan's reluctance to accept the man seemed justified by Ezra's initial prejudice towards the black healer. As time passed, Nathan saw that Ezra had stepped past his childhood prejudices. If Nathan was being honest with himself, it was taking him longer than Ezra to put aside those beliefs. But, looking down in the feverish face that lay before him and seeing the concern in that pale face and the deep concern in his voice set him further down his personal path to forgiveness. 

"She's gonna be fine, Ez." Nathan assured the man as he placed his large palm on Ezra's forehead. He was relieved to find that the heat that had been radiating from Ezra's body for the past few days, was finally beginning to disappear. His fever had broken two days ago and Nathan had been closely monitoring him to be sure that it continued to steadily decline. 

Nathan then picked up Ezra's hand and began to look at his fingers, checking for signs of infection. After replacing the cold hand at his side, he turned his complete attention to the man on the bed. "You'll be fine too, if you stay in bed," he firmly stated, leaving no room for argument. Nathan knew from past experience that since Ezra was now conscious, the wily patient would try to attempt one of his famous escapes from the clinic. 

"Nat…han?" Ezra hoarsely called, his voice was still weak from disuse. 

Nathan glanced back up at Ezra, as he continued to check his various wounds. "Yeah?" 

Ezra swallowed hard once, before finishing his thought. "Thanks. For saving me. And her." 

Nathan nodded briefly at the Southerner as he finished up his examination. 

[Continue][1]

   [1]: chapeleven.html



	12. Eleven

Chapter Eleven

Buck Wilmington was at his wits end. He was ready to kill all of the bastards in the jail cell. He had discovered during the past three hours that trying to drag any information out of them was more pointless than emptying your gun into a dead horse. He was infuriated that in those three hours he'd only gotten a couple of names out of the three outlaws. And, to make matters worse, further in his questioning, he discovered that he had been handed fake ones at that. 

"You son of a bitch! I wanna know why. You had better tell me why!" Buck screamed at the red-haired one as he slapped him across the face. Refusing to talk, the man simply smiled tauntingly at the gunslinger, just as he been doing during the entire questioning. Buck was still on a tirade, swearing and smacking the guy when Chris walked in. 

"Hey, Buck, " he called out after watching his old friend for a few moments. The tone in Larabee's voice stopped Buck cold in his tracks, right arm wound back, left one still holding the other man's collar. Buck looked over his shoulder at his old friend waiting for him to continue. 

"How about goin' over and checking on Julian and Ezra. I'll handle this from here." 

In all of the years he had known Chris, Buck had never seen Chris as incensed as he did at that moment. He nodded in agreement and thrust the outlaw away from him into the stone wall. He knew better than to try and argue with Chris when he was in that type of mood. 

As Buck closed the door to the jail house behind him, he heard Chris say sinisterly, "Now let's get down to business. . ." 

***

As Julian gradually became aware of her surroundings, she saw that she was in an unfamiliar room. Grateful to see light no matter what the source after being deprived of it for so long, she began to slowly take stock of her surroundings. The walls were clean but bare of any decoration, as was the rest of the room. She saw that it was a sparsely furnished room devoid of any personal items except for some plants and books. All that she could see were two cots including the one she was laying on, a few small tables, low to the ground and piled with bottles and bandages and an old wooden chair. . 

She closed her eyes in an effort to gather some strength and struggled awkwardly to sit up. As her eyes fell on the cot across from her, she could see it was occupied as well. When she found that there was not too much pain rushing through her, Julian moved carefully to stand up. She knew without looking that she was dressed in someone else's clothing; they were a bit tight on her. Cautiously, she moved slowly over to the other cot, not wanting to disturb the person sleeping there but needing to satisfy her curiosity. 

She drew in a ragged breath at the sight of a heavily bandaged body that was covered in multi-colored bruises and red stained bandages. She could see the sheer exhaustion clearly evident on the man's features. His face seemed strikingly familiar to her, like an old friend that she couldn't quite place. The afternoon sunlight washed over the room, casting heavy shadows across the man's form. 

An errant thought hit her then, triggered perhaps by the low light as she squinted closely at his face, wondering... 

In exact moment that she bent closer to study the man, his eyes fluttered open and caught her gaze. With green eyes boring into her own, she heard him quietly inquire in a pleasant drawl, "Hello there, Miss. And if may I ask, who are you?" 

Julian was positive now. She would recognize that accented croak anywhere. 

"Hey, Ezra" Julian said, grinning at the man. Who'd have thought he'd be so attractive in the light? She nearly hugged him, but restrained herself, opting to shift closer to the bed. 

"I am glad to see you doing you so well , Miss Larabee. I had feared the worst for you" he softly replied. He turned his head, to look directly at her, not allowing her to break that small contact with him. "You are well, I trust?" 

Julian tore her gaze from his moved back a step. She knew what he was asking her. She also knew that Ezra was too much of a gentleman to ask her if their captors had raped her again, after he had been removed from their cell. 

Julian's eyes restlessly hunted for something to stare at before answering the implied question. Instinctively knowing that this man could spot a lie from a mile away and feeling just how important it was to him to hear the truth, she drew in a deep breath as her gaze met his once again. "Th..they didn't...Not again. Only that once." 

Ezra slowly held out one hand to her, resting his smooth palm on hers. 

"If you ever need anyone, ever, at any time, to talk to, I will be here for you, my dear." 

"Thank you." she whispered. It was if the man could read her mind, discovering her decision to never tell her brother what had happened. She knew that if Chris ever found out he would never forgive himself from not protecting her, regardless to the fact that he had no way of controlling what had happened. 

When she heard the muffled boot heels on the wooded steps out front, she quickly moved back to her cot. Even in the short time she had spent in the clinic, she was aware of the rules. Nathan was in charge of his domain and he would be the one to dictate when any of his patients got out of bed. 

[Continue][1]

   [1]: chaptwelve.html



	13. Twelve

Chapter Twelve

Damn Charlie and his big mouth! He never should have hired the man in the first place. 

With every word that flew out of the shaking man's lips, they were one step closer to a sure fire conviction. If they weren't going to be hung for the murder, thefts, and kidnappings that they were charged with already, he'd have killed Charlie himself. But if there was any small thing to be grateful for in these circumstances, it was that the boss wasn't with them He wouldn't have to wait for the noose to do the job. The boss would have done it with his bare hands first. 

Up until Charlie broke, there was still the chance he could have talked his way out of the noose. Maybe ended up on some chain gang or something. He'd always been the smooth talker of the group. And then, lo and behold, them two start blabbering like idiots. 

Damn. Didn't Charlie have any sense at all? 

The little fool had told the man in black everything. How they were just after the money and that the dead guy just got in the way. And if that wasn't bad enough, Charlie continued on and told him that catching Ezra was a bonus. He believed that Standish cheated during a poker game earlier that the week. When they'd found him lagging behind the others in a gun fight Charlie just grabbed him up for a ransom. And, as if they weren't in enough trouble already, the idiot went and admitted they'd all known that Ezra was a lawman, closing the noose tighter around their necks. 

***

It seemed so long ago that Julian Larabee had stepped onto that carriage and begun her adventure West. Now, hundreds of miles from the city she grew up in, she found herself sitting on a wooden bench just outside a saloon, next to a handsome green-eyed man wrapped in a woolen blanket. 

Her brother had recovered most of her belongings from the wreckage. The majority of her clothing and personal items were found tucked safely inside her precious trunk that somehow remained intact and untouched. To her greatest relief, the only possession she had ever cared about lay wrapped in the bottom, beneath her dresses. A small daguerratype, encased in a black and peeling gold frame. It was a picture of her parents, a month after they'd married, and the only image that existed of the people she could barely remember. 

She was clad in one of her own dresses, a black and white cambric dress, that closely resembled the one that the young widow Travis wore that day. The dark fabric suited her mood, and was more than a bit symbolic. Today, at noon, the verdict would given on the fates of three of her captors. Her happiness would have been complete save for the fact that the leader of the gang had eluded capture, despite the efforts of her brothers friends. Not one single person in the entire territory had come forward with any new information about the missing outlaw. Chris told her that because the area was so large, it was easy for a man who didn't want to be found to disappear forever. It was likely the man slipped over the border days ago and would never be found. So, she had to be satisfied with what she had in front of her. 

She knew that she would never be the same naïve girl that started out on her trip but she refused to give into despair. The empty, pained feeling that seemed to have plagued her continually the first few days, was becoming less insistent as the days passed. After gentle prodding from Ezra, she finally revealed to Nathan the full extent of her injuries endured during her captivity. The gambler had made her realize the importance of having the healer make sure she would heal properly. 

And truth be told, had Ezra not been there to hold her while she cried, Julian thought she might have killed herself during those first dark days. But she would not allow herself to cry anymore. Ezra was right; the hurt, it would never go away completely, nor would she ever forget what those men did to her. But she couldn't let it destroy her. She couldn't let it make her into a weak frail thing, afraid of every shadow. If she let them do that to her, then those men would have taken more from her than just her innocence. They would have taken her soul. And so, when most people would have curled up in a ball, hoping to die a quick death, Julian smiled and laughed, refusing to let those men win. 

Looking around at the now familiar faces, she relaxed knowing that she was surrounded by good, if new, friends. Her brother, his friends, Mary Travis, and countless others, all stood by her during the trial and the days that followed. 

Julian had come to really like Mary in particular. She saw beneath the beautiful face laid a strong mind and brave soul. The two women hit it off from the first. And according to Nathan, this woman would be her sister-in-law by now if her brother weren't such a 'blind fool'! Well, it should be fun to watch the two of them dance around one another! 

Buck and she got along famously, as always. He had taken her out riding the first day Nathan pronounced her well enough to leave the clinic. The pair launched right back into the roles they had been forced to abandon thirteen years before. Buck continued to tease Julian about various aspects of her face while Julian called him the nastiest names she could think of. 

While she enjoyed their visits together, she continued to feel a little out of place with her brother's old friend, especially when the other boy hung around him. JD, about her age, was nice enough, but there was something about the way they both competed for Buck's attention that made Julian nervous around him. 

Josiah was a unique character as well. She liked the older man, even if he didn't talk much past the usual pleasantries and scripture verses with her. 

And Nathan, well, how close can a person be to her own doctor? But since her release from his clinic, she found the healer to have a great sense of humor instilled among his honor. She saw the gentle way he treated every person, regardless to race or gender. Knowing the type of person he was, it made her respect him even more. 

Then there was Vin Tanner, Chris's closest friend in the group. It had surprised Julian at first, until she noticed the way Vin and her brother would talk. It was as if they were brothers themselves. She had worried about Buck when she saw this closeness, but soon realized that although he and Chris weren't as close as they had been, they were still good friends. 

But of all the Seven, the man beside her was probably the one easiest for her to relate to. Maybe it was those days they'd spent huddled in the damp, dark cell together that made them so easy around each other. But whatever it was, she could talk to Ezra like she'd never talked to another and she cherished this. 

Julian told him about her childhood, her parents, her aunt, boarding school, everything. Ezra, in return, had shared some of his past with her. She saw the hurt and anger in his eyes as he spoke of his mother and some of his experiences as a child. At least she was in boarding school because her rich aunt didn't know what to do with an eight year old. Ezra went to boarding school because his mother didn't want him. Despite this though, the two were very much alike. She knew that he was not telling her everything. At times, he would stop suddenly in his story and begin anew on a completely different topic. Maybe he never would fill in those gaps, but Julian made sure he knew that if he ever decided to, she would be there for him, no matter what. 

Chris could not fully understand this friendship between his little sister and one of his men. He was not pleased with the fact that the two spent most of their waking hours in each other's presence But Julian did not worry about Chris's approval. His frowning interference did not stop her from helping Ezra to his seat outside the saloon everyday and sitting with him for hours on end. The idle chatter that comprised much of their afternoon conversations, was riddled with discussion over books and poetry. Ezra had pleasantly surprised Julian when he brought a copy of The Canterbury Tales with him one morning. They'd spent the week taking turns reading aloud the adventures of a knight, laughing over the warnings of Bath, ridiculing the out-dated notions presented in the stories. For days after they'd finished Julian had referred to the gambler mockingly as "the Clerk". 

And sometimes, when they were laughing, and the whole world seemed to consist of that bench and it's two occupants, Julian forgot those days in the cell, and felt like herself again. 

[Continue][1]

   [1]: epilogue.html



	14. Epilogue

Epilogue

"How's the wound?" Julian asked her silent companion as they watched throngs of people beginning to assemble in front of them. 

Ezra exhaled. "Much better, thank you. During my extensive experience in this charming backwater, I have endured much worse." 

"Well, that's reassuring." 

Ezra chuckled before coughing into his fist. 

"You okay?" She asked him, the concern evident in her voice. 

Ezra looked up and watched as three men were marched down the busy expanse of road, parting the crowd as they moved through the masses of citiznes. With a tight smile, he replied, "Never better, my dear.", causing a sharp laugh to escape from Julian as she followed the path of her kidnappers 

"Nice day isn't it?" He asked her, looking up at the clear blue sky. 

Three men walked up ten hastily constructed wooden steps and out onto a platform. 

"Quite," She agreed, tucking a strand of wavy brown hair behind her ear. Ezra reached out and took her smaller hand in his. 

A loud crack resounded through the suddenly silent air, as the trap door gave way. 

If the two of them had looked, they would have seen their tormentors as they swung from three thick, heavy ropes. But both Julian and Ezra stubbornly kept their gazes looking upward at the sky, hands clasped together, and watched the clouds pass over, unrepentant in the hope that it took a long time for those men to die. 

The End

[Index][1]

   [1]: ../adow.html



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